Love Is Beautiful No Matter What Its Form
by Jade Crimson Tears
Summary: DISCONTINUED. A story of beautiful, but forbidden love. I've been told that I can write but need to write more "normal" and "cheerful" things. This is a failed attempt at just that and I've come to realize that I can only write for myself. Kaiba x Mokuba
1. Prologue: The Trauma Metaphor

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Love Is Beautiful No Matter What Its Form

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**_Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yugioh _**

**_Rating: M for incest theme, yaoi _**

**_Warning: cutting, suicidal thoughts _**

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Authoress' Note: 

A close friend of mine said I was not only Kaiba's darkness but also Mokuba's hope, and I wanted to show both characteristics of myself through this piece. I love all my writings equally because they are like daughters to me. I put so much of myself into them, except this one is probably most like me, and this is hindsight lol. I've always identified myself as Kaiba, but I didn't realize until she pointed it out that I also have Mokuba inside of me, I just couldn't see it at the time. Indeed, Kaiba bleeds by nature, and Mokuba heals by nature. By bringing these two together, I hope that they will balance each other's elements and reach a new state of being. After all, they compliment each other so well. The relationship between Kaiba and Mokuba has always intrigued me because I thought it was one of the most beautiful things in the world. The self-sacrifice, the mutual understanding, the demented love… sigh. Everything about them brings tears to my eyes, and I hope I can make you feel for them the way I've experienced it by writing this story.

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The expression on Mokuba's face as realization struck with full force when he found out the truth about his niisama's somewhat morbid custom was something that Kaiba could never forget. 

But it was an addiction that couldn't be stopped if he tried a million times, not even for the most important person in the world, because he just simply couldn't, it wasn't possible.

Mokuba stood by him over the years, just like always, understanding, accepting, like a guardian angel. It was such a Mokuba thing to do, but Mokuba was also hurting, breaking…

Each additional line on his arm torn away a shred of innocence from his baby brother, and the knowledge of that almost killed him, almost, but it didn't, although sometimes he wished that it did.

It didn't, because his knife was here, along with Mokuba himself, and that was all he needed to survive. Although surviving and living are very different things.

Mokuba turned eighteen last week. He matured, grew wiser, sadder, but his unconditional love for his niisama never wavered once. It only grew stronger, it didn't make any sense.

He allowed Mokuba to step up to the position of president as a silent thank you, because he thought he should, because he couldn't express how he felt in any other way.

Kaiba Corp would be just fine, after all, Mokuba learned from the best. The teen took it however as if he was given the most precious gift in the universe, not so much the company, but his trust.

The decision felt right, for the first time in his life, he did something right. He breathed a sigh of relief. Mokuba would be a better CEO than he could ever be, and he couldn't help but to feel proud.

As for himself, he would be checking every now and again to make sure everything was in order. He knew that it was not a necessity. He didn't doubt Mokuba's ability, but he did have control issues.

Research and design would be enough to keep him occupied anyways. But Mokuba the mother hen insisted that the most important thing right now was for Seto to take care of himself.

Mokuba suggested pills, therapy, rehab, but he refused, claiming that he was living proof that none of the above worked. The teen's shoulders slumped, but he flashed him a big, brave smile.

He wished he had as much faith in himself the way Mokuba did. He also envied the teen's ability to fake happiness for him, because he couldn't do even that for the one that he loved the most.

He just didn't see anything in himself that was worth saving, or more importantly, worth living for. He didn't get the point. His life seemed so insubstantial in his eyes.

That didn't mean he was going down without a fight. The whole purpose of cutting was to live after all, not die, although one day he might slip, give into the pain. He couldn't bear thinking about that.

He was a bastard who never deserved a second chance at living anyway. But Mokuba saw something in him that was worth loving, worth fighting for, and he held onto that with an unsteady grip.

Until he pushed his only love so far that he wouldn't come back, or better still, run away from the monster that he was, but he knew somehow that the younger version of himself was just as stubborn.

Mokuba refused to give up on him no matter what the circumstance. He hinted that at the rate that he was going, it wouldn't matter anyway. But the teen begged to differ, holding his ground steadfastly.

Unconditional love, probably the only constant thing in his chaotic life, and he guessed that the best way to repay Mokuba's loyalty was to keep breathing, keep fighting, and that was what he did.

If nothing else, because only survival mattered. He kept on surviving, even if he looked and felt like the walking dead, he kept at it, mindlessly, going on auto-pilot, like a machine.

But things didn't work as well when broken, and he was dysfunctional. So he cut, line after line, all along his arm, and it made all the difference in the world. He could move on, if only for a little while.

He never intended for Mokuba to see, but he saw anyway, when he was barely a teen. He swore to protect his baby brother always, but nowadays, from what he asked. Himself?

It was too ironic. Yet he was thinking about this with such cold indifference, because he had no other choice. It was the only thing he knew how to do, to shut down completely.

It wasn't because he didn't have a heart. He felt so much, once upon a time, but it wasn't until later on that he understood that he felt too much. The kind of love he felt shouldn't have been there at all.

Especially seeing Mokuba now, all grown up and no longer a child. Just one look, one smile, one touch, and his will would crumble. He would fall in love with his baby brother all over again.

He didn't know that it was possible for Mokuba to be even more beautiful as an adult than he was as a child, but it was a nightmare came true. To him, this was too much of a curse to be a blessing.

Mokuba was usually roaming around the house in a knee length shirt, with a work tie loosely hanging around his slender neck. His hair would be tied back in a ponytail, wild and luscious black as always.

Mokuba was tall, fair and slim. He lost most of his baby fat during his teenage years and his figure was perfect. There was just something ridiculously sensual about the way he moved.

But nothing could compare with Mokuba's eyes, stormy blue and slightly slanted with age, because the passion burning in them when he smiled at his niisama blazed so fiercely it took his breath away.

God he loved him so much, he could never stop loving him like this, and fuck it hurt, this sick, twisted, damned love, he wished that he could just go and kill himself, it would benefit them both.

But he couldn't, because he couldn't bear hurting Mokuba like that, to just get out of his life forever. Even if the way he loved him now will hurt him just as much if it was thrown into the open.

He didn't know why he chose to fall in love with Mokuba of all people, but it wasn't a choice, it was never a choice. He had loved his baby brother for as long as he knew, he was born to love him.

Just not like this, not the way he was doing it, at night, when he tossed and turned with agonizing need. His breath would hitch every time Mokuba came too near, it was pure torture, however bittersweet.

He felt like throwing up everything inside of him and dug his nails into his scalp. He wanted to blame his misguided distortions on a dead man. The thing was, said man was gone, but was his influence?

It couldn't have been. It wasn't even about Gozaburo anymore, maybe it had been in the buried past. But now, he could hate, abuse and destroy all by himself. He didn't need Gozaburo to be a monster.

Mokuba thought the reason he cut was because of their adopted father, and didn't understand why he would honour him in such a way. He didn't know the true reason behind his dirty habit.

Beside the fact that Mokuba was the problem, there were also other purposes that cutting served, some of them he couldn't even explain himself. He just knew it would work for him in the end.

Whenever he felt like he loved so much that his heart couldn't contain it anymore, although he wasn't sure if it was the love or the pain, he cut, and the physical pain numbed out everything else.

Whenever he felt like dying because he just couldn't live like this anymore, he cut, because that way he could pretend that he was bleeding to death, and the notion was heavenly.

Whenever he felt like the living dead because he got so numb he couldn't feel, he cut, and the crimson red flowing out of his veins would remind him that he was still alive, that he could still bleed.

Whenever he felt like jumping his younger brother and the lust drove him crazy, he cut, for ever daring to hurt Mokuba like that, just the mere thought of it made him fitting for the punishment.

Whenever he felt like there was nothing to do because he didn't know what to do with himself, he cut, out of pure boredom or desperation, the sight of blood was distinctive, nice, pretty even.

He didn't know which of those applied to him now, but he was doing it, and it felt too good. His senses sharpened immediately, he could concentrate on his work once more. He had stopped thinking.

He never bothered to tend to the cuts afterwards, just chucked plasters over them, pretending that they were never there in the first place. Sometimes they bled through his shirt, but he couldn't care less.

It was Mokuba who bandaged him usually. He didn't want him to bother, but was secretly glad that he did. It was one of the rare times that the teen paid complete attention to him rather than Kaiba Corp.

Mokuba would scowl at him softly, playfully, but never disapproving. The teen's face was always carefully neutral to mask his pain, and he was grateful, welcomed the ignorance with open arms.

Although Mokuba would go on about some psychological bullshit in regards to him not acknowledging the presence of his wounds, always turning a blind eye, etcetera and etcetera.

Something about if the wounds were neglected for too long they'd start to become infected and poison the bloodstream, slowly killing him. He'd kick off not too long after that.

Mokuba was wise, and just because he chose to ignore the teen didn't mean he didn't hear what was being said. It was a metaphor for the wounds deep down inside him that couldn't be seen.

It was a painfully accurate description really. He never took care of his emotional wounds over the years, because his life wasn't important at the time. Mokuba was his world, and that, he took care of.

So the wounds crusted, but he didn't heal, physically or otherwise. He heard from somewhere that the past always caught one up as one ran faster, but he avoided his demons for as long as he could.

So the wounds would bleed underneath their scabs, weeping, hurting, because they were so deep they never healed, because they were never given the proper time and care they needed to heal.

So the wounds spread their infection, and there was poison in his blood, everywhere. He guessed that he would eventually breathe no more because of it, but that wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

He wiped the knife gingerly with a tissue and hid it away. After making sure he wasn't bleeding excessively like the last time he did this, he rolled down his sleeve with a smirk.

He definitely picked a bad time to wallow in depression, Mokuba would be home soon. He shifted his position on the bed, fixed his posture, and retrieved his reading glasses from the bedside table.

Putting them on, he turned his attention back to the laptop. Everything was fine and he was ready. Mokuba would never know that he was this unwell, although a part of him almost wished that he did.

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	2. Chapter 1: The Ostrich Effect

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Chapter 1

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He was working at his laptop still when the door busted open, as an overly excited Mokuba bounced into the room, dropping his briefcase onto the floor and screaming at the top of his lungs. "BOO!"

He arched an eyebrow, although his eyes never left the laptop and his fingers did not cease typing. It made Mokuba pout. "Aw, Seto you are no fun, at least pretend to be startled and give me some attention."

"The probability of startling me, especially by you, should be well below zero," he retorted, his expression serious. "I know occurrences before they take place. The element of surprise almost never throws me off."

Rolling his eyes, Mokuba pulled a face, muttering something about having an impossible niisama, and came to sit beside him on the bed. He moved over, putting his laptop aside, "how was work today?"

The teen gave him an egotistical grin. "I'm surprised that no one has tried to take over, well not yet anyway. Work was fun at times, boring at times, hectic at other times, but nothing I couldn't resolve."

"But of course, you were made for that position," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "I always knew you were CEO material, right from the start. It's what I trained you for. You should give yourself more credit."

"I'm glad that you have so much faith in me," Mokuba beamed. "It's nice to be part of something so big. But thank you, niisama, really. Kaiba Corp is beautiful, the way it's growing along side me. It is a dream come true."

"Don't thank me Mokuba," he replied curtly. "I meant it when I said you deserved the title of CEO. Your part as vice president in the past contributed to what Kaiba Corp is today just as much as I did."

It was nothing but the truth, otherwise he wouldn't have said it. He never spoiled Mokuba and always treated him as an equal. Although there were countless failures in his life, Mokuba's upbringing was definitely not one of them.

The teen nodded in agreement, "that was what I have been aiming for all these years," he said with mischief in his eyes. "But, I don't plan to become an exact replica of you, Seto, I intend to do better."

"And I'm sure you won't disappoint me. I'll be watching your back, although I can't do all the weeding for you, nor drag all the moles out of their holes," he added thoughtfully. "Have you fired anyone yet?"

Mokuba looked taken aback. "Why would I want to do such a thing? You know it's not in my nature to fire people unless it's absolutely necessary. I was always the one stopping you from doing deeds like that."

"It's essential that you slay the most rebellious monkey regardless of his innocence so others may watch him suffer and learn from it. That's how you stop them from ripping the company from underneath you."

Mokuba shook his head. "I refuse to follow your way. We have different images to be upheld Seto. I was actually going for compassionate, not psychotic!" The teen winked, trying hard not to laugh out loud.

"Whatever," he glared at his younger sibling halfheartedly. "That's naive of you to show humanity. Most of the employees are at least twice your age. You'll let people walk all over you, especially when you are so young."

"Not necessarily, I am a Kaiba after all, I know when to remind them who's in charge. However, my goal is for people to do what I say because they want to, not because they have to. It's not completely unrealistic."

He raised the back of one hand to support his chin while considering those words. Mokuba has always had an idealistic view of everything. That itself is strength as well as a fatal flaw, one which others will exploit.

"Don't look so concerned niisama," Mokuba reassured him. "Even you said I have a gift to charm, and I promise I'll be very careful. But enough about me and work already, how are you feeling?"

"Humph…" came the grunt, and Mokuba waited, but there was nothing more. The teen tilted his head to one side, tapping his lip with a finger. "That, in your warped language, means you are miserable as usual."

He grimaced, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, it means I'm fine, I just can't be bothered stating it, and that you read too much into things." At that, Mokuba raised both eyebrows and frowned.

"No, what it really means is that you are not fine, but you wish to be left alone, and so the discussion ends here. You may try to push me away with whatever means, but you know it'll never work."

"Perhaps I am, but it's no matter," he sighed. "This does not concern you. This is something that I can manage by myself, something that I must handle alone. Do you understand that, Mokuba?"

The teen looked away, bowing his head. "The thing is, you are not coping. You were never taught the right ways to cope, so you came up with your own ways to cope, except they are self destructive ways."

"Maybe they are, but they are all I have, and you…" He touched Mokuba's hand, but quickly pulled away as if he had been burned and barked out a bitter laugh. "I'm sorry, I am ice after all, and you are like fire."

But Mokuba clasped his hand with his own and held it there. "If you are afraid that letting me in will destroy you, don't be. Do you know what becomes of ice after it melts Seto? It becomes spring, the hope."

"That's not it," he removed his hand from Mokuba's grasp. "What I'm worried about is you. I will not take you down with me. If you choose to get involved, that melting glacier will drench your fire no matter how hard I try to stop it."

"No, you are wrong. You taught me how to love myself, because you loved me unconditionally. The kind of self-love that you have instilled in me, not even a blizzard in Antarctica can put out, I swear it. I'd like to see you try."

He wanted to deny it all, but looking into Mokuba's eyes and the sincerely in them, the sheer determination, he couldn't help but to believe. Whether this would be his salvation or their damnation, only time will tell.

Cupping his face into his hands, Mokuba looked into his niisama's beautiful blue eyes and smiled. "Thank you, for giving this a chance, for giving us a chance. You gave up living for me, I would like to share mine with you."

He didn't know what to say to that. It sounded too much like a sacrifice, on Mokuba's part, but the teen refused to take no for an answer, refused to allow him to look away. So he nodded, giving in with a growl.

"You can start by coming with me tomorrow night," the teen declared enthusiastically. "Yugi and the gang planned a special thing for me. It's a belated birthday celebration as well as for my newfound responsibility of Kaiba Corp."

"The geek squad organized this for you, I don't think they planned me to be a part of it," he resisted the urge to sneer. "Go have fun with them tomorrow evening, and please, do it without me. Note the emphasis on 'without me'."

Mokuba exhaled, flustered and exasperated. "Here I was pouring out my heart to you and you give me that kind of bullshit. Come on, Seto, you know as well as I do that they'll love to have you there. Please?"

"And you know as well as I do that I am allergic to their absurd idiocy. I can't stand Yugi, let alone Yami. The mutt is a moron, and lets not even think about the friendship girl. Your taste in companionship is truly… one of a kind."

The teen stared with great displeasure. "For God's sake niisama. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you get off from insulting them or something. You know what? You need to go out and get laid, that is your problem."

"Maybe I do," he shrugged, slightly amused. "But like you said, knowing me and my social phobias, the only bachelor I will ever allow to get close to me, let alone fuck my brains out, is probably you, which is unfortunate."

"Uh! Forget it!" Mokuba fought to keep the blush off his face and moped. "You are the biggest jerk on the face of this planet! I just don't understand how someone as cold-blooded as you could be just as hot all at once!"

He was dumbfounded when Mokuba threw himself against his chest, his fingers intertwined with his shirt. His heart fluttered as the teen breathed in and out. He idly wondered if Mokuba was close enough to hear his heart race.

This was an old habit from the orphanage. Whenever things became too much to bear, Mokuba would run into his arms and bury his head in the folds of Seto's vest like an ostrich, blocking off the rest of the world.

That was how Mokuba dealt with reality and survived intact, by losing himself in his niisama. And vice versa, the small remainder of sanity left in his pathetic head as he endured Gozaburo's treatments was owed to Mokuba.

Understandably so. It even made sense, in a crazy kind of way, that Mokuba became his anything and everything not too long after that. The way he obsessed over his brother, he knew it wasn't normal, hell it wasn't even moral.

Gozaburo was ill, and he was at the receiving end of that monstrosity slash insanity. He was beaten up brutally then touched suggestively the next. He wasn't fucked, but the mind screw was probably a million times worse.

But that belonged to the past and the present was calling. Mokuba was still clutching at his shirt as if his life depended on it. The way the teen's body was pressing so perfectly into his, all that flesh, all that warmth…

All that life. Mokuba would live for them both, and it was alright. As for himself, he couldn't live, he couldn't die. He wondered if there was a thin line between life and death, because he suspected that he might be sitting on it.

He gently pried the teen off him with a smirk. "I'm sorry for the humiliation, but you practically asked for it kiddo. You know my competitive nature and how I am with winning, even when it comes to domestic banters. Gomen."

Mokuba darted him a murderous look and brought his knees to his chin. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have led you on, nor should I be upset about you getting the upper hand. Once upon a time, you losing meant I would get hurt."

He reached out to ruffle the teen's head, but Mokuba refused to look up. "It's alright, things have changed. I'm trying my best to let go of the hurt and hate, you should let go of the guilt too, don't get too hung up on it."

Resting his head on his knees, Mokuba relaxed a little. "Hypocrite, although I will let it slide. I guess it's just easier said than done. I couldn't help but to wonder if there was something else I could have done to prevent…"

The teen winced, catching himself in time before he went too far. "Sorry, niisama, what I meant to say was if you really wanted to change, then let go of the hate. If you let that one slide, everything else will go with it."

He couldn't say that he understood what the teen meant, so Mokuba explained. "Because if you forgive him, it means he no longer has power and control over you. His influence would be gone, isn't that what you want?"

"Yes. Except that hating fueled my life. Hating drove me to my best. Hating made me invincible. Hating was my bubble and I don't think I'm ready to burst it. " He fell back onto the pillows, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

Mokuba shook his head, his voice was shaking a little too with emotion. "If you let that hating go, you give up the identity of being hurt. You stop him from hurting you. Then you won't need the hating to be your protection."

He closed his eyes tiredly, and Mokuba sighed. "I know. I shouldn't put words into your mouth, and I'm sorry. Just think about what I said, I only ask you to consider it, because you deserve so much, much more than this."

It was times like these that he withdrew into himself, and Mokuba understood that he had to be left alone. He felt the covers being pulled over his chest and Mokuba's feather light kiss upon his cheek as he whispered goodnight.

The light was turned off, the door clicked shut, and Mokuba's footsteps faded into the distance. He turned onto his side and buried his head in the duvet, much like what Mokuba was doing earlier, and felt like a small child.

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	3. Chapter 2: The Fairytale Play

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Chapter 2

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He woke with a jolt and sat up to the sound of a door slam, presuming that Mokuba, aka the creator of the mayhem downstairs, probably came home drunk. Glancing at his clock, he flopped back down with a sigh.

The digital digits roughly read 4am, and he made a mental note to bitch to Mokuba tomorrow about being woken up rudely. No, he meant later on today, after he attained a few more precious hours of sleep.

With that in mind, he turned over, pulling the covers over his head with the intention of going back to sleep. Mokuba's cursing did not cease however, to his dismay, it evolved and mutated into something like wailing.

He sat up again, unimpressed and still half asleep. His mood was foul, and he swore as he pulled a shirt over his head. Although it was pleasant to note that he, not Mokuba, was the one with the colourful vocabulary.

Never mind that, his mind was scolding, Mokuba sounded as if he was in trouble and he needed to be there as soon as possible to help out. He agreed wholeheartedly and quickly got out of bed, bleary-eyed.

He dashed out of his room and turned on the light. Getting to the bottom of the stairs was no trouble, but while sprinting across the lounge he nearly tripped over Mokuba's shoe, which lied hazardously on the floor.

Said shoe's owner was howling between heavy panting and clawing at the corner of a wall, trying in earnest to stay upright and maintain his balance. "Mokuba…" he pulled the teen away from the wall to face him, and froze.

Mokuba was in a pair of black leather pants, laced up at the sides, with a matching lace up top, sparkling white and split angel fairy sleeved. So much like a princess, his princess, like the one he had created in his virtual games.

But things turned from bad to worse when Mokuba opened his eyes, which were outlined with kohl and unfocused from intoxication. Messy hair fell around the teen's face and into his eyes, in a way that was almost sexual…

The little voice in his head chanted, and he closed his eyes and shook the disturbing thought out of his head. He felt dizzy, although whether it came from the vigorous head shaking or other sources he wasn't sure about.

He took a deep breath, picked the teen up, bridal styled nonetheless, but really couldn't care less given the condition that he was in. Gritting his teeth, he fled up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry them both.

"I'm sorry to wake you up at this hour, but I don't think I could make it to my room on my own in this state." Mokuba admitted with embarrassment, his petal lips parting as he blushed an arousing shade of pink.

"It's alright. I'm a light sleeper anyway." He muttered hastily, heart pounding and trying hard to think about anything other than Mokuba's inviting lips, to no avail. "Did you have a good time at Yugi's?"

"I had a great time. It was kick-ass!" Mokuba cried out, giggling. "Except everyone had a partner and I didn't, so I drank instead, all the while wishing that you were there. I think I had a tad too much to drink, though…"

"No shit," he mumbled under his breath. "You knew you have a low alcohol tolerance and you still drank your ass off like that. Yugi and them didn't dub you the title of 'spewing tomato' for no reason you know."

"Hey, shut up! You can't talk," the teen shouted with displeasure. "You are just as bad as me with alcohol, if not worse." He smirked, "that maybe, but I don't go scarlet and I don't throw up, unlike the infamous you-know-who."

"Humph…" Mokuba bristled, but kept quiet as his brain was too out of it to think of a decent combat. The older of the two was forever grateful, crossing the hall and reaching the teen's bedroom after what seemed like an eternity.

He was about to put Mokuba down and tuck him in, when the arms around his neck tightened and he halted in his steps. "Niisama… do you still remember that special game we used to play when we were young?"

He tensed, his body rigid, but Mokuba did not stop asking his question. "The one where I played your princess and you played my knight in shining armor. Just like how we are now, just like always… You remember?"

"I remember. You refused to go to sleep unless I slept in the same bed with you. So we compromised that the sleepless beauty has to fall asleep by herself before her prince could kiss her awake in the morning."

"You still remember, niisama." Mokuba smiled, teary eyed. "Do you remember the song that you used to sing to me? I loved the sound of your voice, it was the only way I could fall asleep. I'd like to hear you sing it to me tonight."

"Alright," he laid the boy in his arms gently onto the bed with a saddened smile. "Goodnight… sleep tight… no more tears… in the morning… I'll be here… and when we say goodnight… dry your eyes… because –"

"Because we said goodnight… and not goodbye…" Mokuba finished, as drops of liquid crystal rolled onto the pillowcase. He wiped them away tenderly with a thumb. "Now now, you, are what people call a sad drunk."

Mokuba sobbed, battered and distraught. "The prince slew the dragon for the princess. But do you know what happened next, Seto? Now every morning, she mentally prepared herself that her prince might be dead."

"No matter what dimension the prince ended up at, his heart had always belonged to the princess. As long as she survived, the prince's heart will be in safekeeping." He tried to reason, but Mokuba only cried harder.

"He would live on that way, Mokuba," he climbed onto the bed, cradling the teen in his arms. "The prince was fatally wounded in the battle. If he remained living, he would spend that life bleeding and licking his wounds."

He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. When he spoke next, his voice was coarse, merely above a whisper. "Don't you think it's cruel to keep him here kiddo? If she really loved him, she would let him go..."

His voice was near breaking, it seemed like he was pleading for a blessing to die, and Mokuba's eyes were glaring daggers. He realized that he went far more than he had intended and flinched, bracing himself for the worst.

His dying issue was a taboo topic in the household. If Mokuba slapped him across the face with all his might right now, it would have been completely within reason and he would have understood perfectly.

He expected that slap, maybe even getting spit in the face was well deserved. What he didn't expect was Mokuba closing the distance between them and attacking him on the lips as if tomorrow would never come.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He was seeing stars, as salty tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn't push him away, but nor could he kiss him back. He just lied there, stung, broken, defeated.

Before he had enough sense to react, the kiss ended, just as sudden as it came, like a fallen star making its final mark across the sky. He began to wonder if it all had been his own wishful thinking, that it was all just in his head.

But Mokuba was just as breathless as he was, with silvery tears flowing down rosy cheeks and his face inches away from his own. He touched his bruised lips in phantom pain, exhaling shakily, "what the hell was that?!"

"Me breathing my life into you, baka, because I refuse to let you die! So don't you ever dare to bring that shit up with me ever again, unless you want the treatment to be repeated. Are we crystal clear on that?!"

Mokuba was serious, all business and CEO like. He found himself still a little dazed from the kiss and nodded in agreement. " It was also the most effective way to shut you up," the teen added, satisfied, "so I went ahead."

"Please, you weren't doing me a favour by performing some lame version of CPR, it was more like sucking the living daylights out of me, or something equally unpleasant." He grimaced, and Mokuba gave him a lopsided grin.

"Try not to save me again any time in the near future by eating me alive," he chided, feigning irritation. "You may get off me now, because you weigh like a pig and you are also blocking my oxygen circulation."

"Really?" Mokuba breathed into his ear, his voice strained with something like desire, and he shivered against his will. "I think the real reason you can't stand me being this close to you is because it turns you on."

"You…" he was unable to say anything coherent and waited for his body to calm down. "Either you have lost your mind or, you are on something that I should know about, and either way, you are royally screwed."

He winced at his choice of wording and nearly bit through his lip, but Mokuba was far from discouraged. "Your heart rate is skyrocketing, along with your breathing, which couldn't possibly suggest that you are…"

"No, it doesn't suggest anything," he snapped, closing his eyes because he didn't want the teen to see the dead giveaway in them. "I have to breathe harder because you are crushing my lungs this very moment, end of story."

He didn't think that his story was bought. Despite the fact that his IQ was at least 3 standard deviations above the mean population, he was still human. He had a libido that sometimes could not be kept under control.

Especially when the subject of his love was so agonizingly close, and Mokuba chuckled, wild eyes glinting with glee and the knowledge that he had won. "I shall test that theory then, by making you breathe harder, like this!"

"Un!" He threw his head back and cried out a stifled moan as the teen grinded hard against him. Arching his back involuntarily to meet that thrust, his arms snaked around Mokuba's waist to bring them impossibly closer.

He must hold Mokuba there, had to stop him from moving down any further. He thought fleetingly that maybe if he was the one on top then he could hold the teen's arms over his head and use his own body to pin him down.

All his martial arts training couldn't allow him to maneuver his body in the way that he wanted, because his own desire got in the way. Mokuba was feeling him all over, squeezing, groping, and he still couldn't seem to get enough.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But most of all he wanted this so much it hurt. He needed level-headedness, a bucket of ice, a kick in the groin, anything to stop him from hurting Mokuba.

It was then that he realized just exactly who was in bed with him, and in all the wrong ways. The panic in his chest gave him enough will to shove Mokuba away and he rolled from underneath the teen, off the bed and onto the floor.

"Niisama…" Mokuba groaned, missing the presence of that hot body under him. Crawling towards the edge of the bed on all fours, the teen's breathing was erratic and his eyes were clouded with unmistakable lust.

"Don't come near me," he warned, his own breathing ragged. "I'm going back to my room to sleep and so should you. The sooner you get this damned alcohol out of your system the better, for both our sakes."

Not that he expected Mokuba to be attentive to what he was saying, since his own blood was running towards south and not to anywhere near his brain. He really needed to get out of here, desperately.

Mokuba was touching himself, toying with the bulge in his pants and moaning out loud. "Seto… do you have a fucking clue what you do to me? I need you to fuck me through this mattress right now! Help me…"

"You'll be fine, just sleep and you'll feel better in the morning." His mouth had gone dry in response to the erotic scene before him and he gulped. "You've managed all these years, surely one more night is not going to kill you."

With that he got up and tried to escape, but nearly tripped over his own feet in the process. He didn't remember how he walked away, the next thing he did know was being in the shower, aching and throbbing and as hard as rock.

The water was ice cold, but he preferred it to be that way. Clamping a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out, he listened to the sound of running water and let it drown out Mokuba's pleas and sighs.

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	4. Chapter 3: The Reality Check

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Chapter 3

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He stayed in the shower for a good hour and a half, freezing his butt off. Or maybe it was two hours, since he had lost track of the time. Three seemed pretty plausible as well, but it couldn't have been that long.

Tonnes of water must have been used up in this lengthy process, just exactly how much would have been easy to calculate, but he really could not be assed. It could've been worse, at least the water wasn't heated, he told himself.

Shaking all over from the chill, he quickly dried himself with a towel, teeth clattering all the while. Dawn was breaking and there was no point in trying to sleep now. This was usually the time he was up and about anyway.

He walked over to the closet and picked out a pair of faded black jeans and a white muscle shirt. He wanted mundane clothing, nothing tight or suggestive, especially not after the incident with Mokuba earlier.

Watching the sunrise, he traced its luminous rays with his eyes as they turned everything they touched into gold. Finally at ease, he moved towards the window to examine that rare beauty, and leaned against the glass.

Mornings were always almost a little more optimistic to him than nights, he felt better about watching the sun go up rather than down somehow. It was strange, since the preference of a depressive was usually the other way around.

He wasn't sure if his inappropriate ways of being had more to do with disorders of the mood or personality. It could have been both, or perhaps he was just thinking about it too much, and things were much simpler than that.

Maybe with all the 'bad' things that had happened to him, his sanity simply could not put up with him any longer and left. Maybe his sanity was bored with the way he dealt with things without it and abandoned his shell behind.

Sad as it was, it was up to him to chase after it, he was the one responsible to get it back, because it belonged to him. It was his in the first place for God's sake, so why had sanity become a privilege, not a right?

But he couldn't be crazy. Crazy people didn't know they were crazy, and since he thought that he was crazy, he wasn't really crazy. However, just thinking about all of this made him feel like as if he was going crazy…

What was really bothering him was not that. He didn't give a damn about what people thought of him, aside from Mokuba, and he was not going to think about Mokuba, nor what happened prior to the shower.

As if right on cue, he sensed the teen's presence. He didn't see nor hear him, but felt him rather. He always knew if Mokuba was near, it was like a sixth sense, a special ability that came only with the ties of blood.

Mokuba entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, and he still couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from the window. He wouldn't have known what to say, so the teen had to be the first to speak. "Hey, you…"

He felt a pang of something. It made him feel like falling down before Mokuba, falling by his feet, holding onto his hand and never letting go. He would beg to be forgiven, beg for redemption, if he had the guts to do it.

But of course he couldn't, he would feel like an idiot doing so, so he didn't do anything. He kinda just stood there, looking through the glass and pretending that he hadn't heard a thing, not a thing, nothing at all.

"Niisama… are you okay?" the teen called out, faltering in his steps and waiting for an answer. When none came and only silence ensued, Mokuba spoke again, gently but more urgently, "we are okay… aren't we?"

"Yes we are fine." He snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and turned his head towards the teen abruptly with mask set in place. "I'm a little fucked up, but we are okay. What made you say that we were not?"

"The way I behaved last night." Mokuba reddened, looking down and suddenly found himself more fascinated with the carpet than his brother's searching gaze. "I need to apologize for what happened between us and…"

"Stop." He cut the teen off before he could go any further. "There's nothing to talk about because nothing happened. You didn't do anything, so you haven't got anything to be sorry about, alright?"

"If your definition of nothing includes me getting horny as hell and trying to molest you in my drunken state then sure, nothing happened. Otherwise I have a lot of explaining to do, and I need to do it before I…"

"Dumbass," he snarled in irritation, as sensations from the previous event were lingering about him still, and he did not need another reminder. "That was the alcohol, it had nothing to do with you. So stop looking so guilt ridden."

"That's the thing, it had everything to do with me!" Mokuba cried out. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I wanted you to know for a long time, and I need to say it now, because it's killing me!"

He could never say no to Mokuba, no matter how hard he tried, and since when had this mansion begun to house so much drama anyway? "Fine, this had better be good," he gave in with a grunt. "What is it then?"

"First of all, I'm sober. I fell asleep straight away after you left, it might only have been a couple of hours, but that was all I needed. There's no way that alcohol is impairing my judgment in any way right now."

That was sensible, he could see the rationality in Mokuba's argument. Nodding in agreement, he gave the teen permission to continue with whatever he was going to say. It sounded like it was important.

"You know I love you, that had never been a question. But no matter how many times I tell you this you probably still won't believe me, so what I'm going to say is going to be even harder for you to accept."

He had a hunch about where this was going, and it didn't seem to be all that favorable. He reasoned that for he knew, this could be something entirely different to what he thought, and avoided jumping to conclusions.

"I waited until I was eighteen, until I was an adult legally, because I knew that you'd blame yourself otherwise. I was actually going to say it to you on my birthday, but I couldn't, so I turned to alcohol for help."

"It was like a latch on the gate had been opened, everything flooded in, and I couldn't hold it inside any longer. So I kissed you. I didn't understand why something so wrong in other people's eyes could feel so right, but it did."

"I want to capture its perfection, to put into words and articulate just how much you make me feel, but I don't know how. All I know is that it was right, because you are my all, from parent, teacher, to brother, best friend… to lover."

"You are my lover too, in a subtle and intricate and fucked up kind of way. But even when we were small, the fairytale pretense, the ever-afters, it was all there. I have always been in love with you, and I always will be."

"I wanted to be your princess, yours and only yours. I wanted to marry you, to give you all of me. I didn't get why no man or woman could ever satisfy me, until I realized that only you can make me feel the meaning of complete."

"You are so beautiful, even in your pain, and I'd still love you just the same. It's just, when I looked at you as a child, your eyes gave off so much light they shone like stars. I look at you now, and your eyes suck light in like voids."

"What happened to my niisama who could fight a God, I thought, who was so much like a God himself? I wanted to rescue that dying light in your eyes so badly, to bring it back to life, even if it was just a sparkle of lust."

"I just don't know what I'd do without you… I just care too much… that's all…" The teen wrapped an arm around himself to stop the tears from falling, but it was no use, because they splattered onto the carpet anyway.

He was still staring into space and at nothing in particular. There were a billion things that raced through his mind during Mokuba's confession, no single one outweighed the others, and he floundered for an answer.

Seconds ticked by, and he realized that he was supposed to utter back something meaningful. But how could he with his vision blurring, his walls breaking, and his vulnerability threatening to show through any second?

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again, and succeeded the second time with surprising steadiness. "I never knew you felt that way about us, especially towards me, and for that, I'm sorry."

"You misunderstood the nature of our relationship, and that is unfortunate. But I raised you to be normal, to fit into the norm. Getting you involved in homosexuality, let alone incest, is certainly not the way to go about it."

"I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but that really isn't necessary. I'll be fine without it, I assure you. You've mistaken the love between us for something more that's non-existent, and for that, I'm sorry too."

"But," he paused, slowing down his words and keeping his gaze on the spot above Mokuba's head, "I have never felt anything more than brotherly towards you, and never will. It's time you had a reality check, Mokuba."

The measured pace and tone of his voice provided just enough emphasis to hurt, so that Mokuba will leave him alone. It was now Mokuba's cue to exit, so he waited, but the teen was not leaving, he was coming closer.

Droning business meetings taught him a great deal about improvisation, so he wondered why this didn't work like he planed. He dared not to make eye contact with Mokuba however, and turned his head to the window once more.

He was an excellent liar. Most people agreed that his eyes were the most intimidating feature of all, because they screamed murder and betrayed nothing. But when it came to dealing with Mokuba, it was another story entirely.

"I am not like other people," he heard Mokuba say, "if I were, I wouldn't be running the globe's largest gaming empire single handedly. You yourself were doing much more than I was at much younger an age. As for us…"

"We are not like most people, either. It's time that you stopped pretending that we are. There's too much history between us, too much passion to be willed away by a knife. You are the one needing the reality check, not me."

The truth of those words struck him with such force it nearly knocked him out. He looked up, mouth slightly agape. Mokuba could always read him like an open book. Who was living in the lie, and whom was he trying to convince?

Mokuba was standing before him, weeping silently, although there was nothing weak about the tears that fell down his face. The teen's stance was empress-like, and what he saw were infinite strength, love, and pride.

That was the fundamental difference between them. He stepped up to the many challenges life had thrown at him, but ran away from the things that mattered the most. Mokuba on the other hand, fought for what he believed.

"You've always ran away, but I won't let that happen when it comes to me." Mokuba's hands were cupping his cheeks, bringing their foreheads together. "You don't owe me anything. But you owe this to yourself."

"No," he shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. "I've already told you how I felt, now let me go. There's nothing you can say, nothing you can do, to make me love you more because," he paused, "because…"

"Because you are already in love with me, head over heels. Because nothing can change the way you love me, and nothing can take that love away. Just so you know, I've fallen for you too, just as hard, since the beginning of time."

He felt drugged, almost delirious with Mokuba's gentle promises of love and healing, and gave up his last ounce of control. Dream-like, he claimed Mokuba's lips with his own, and lost himself in the euphoria of it all.

The kiss was inexperienced, clumsy, desperate and not at all that erotic. Yet he was on the highest high, the electricity jolting through his veins was better than any endorphin trip cutting could ever provide.

"You are too sweet…" still not quite out of his trance, he breathed the words when they broke apart. He would give Mokuba up, except that he was no quitter, he thought, just trading one addiction away for another.

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End file.
